


Probably Longer than 7 Minutes in Heaven

by ColdBookWorm



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Dr. Flug needs a dickin', He lonely, I'm just writing this to be self indulgent tbh, I've barely proofread this and it's 1:30 AM, Imaginary biting, M/M, Masturbation, Porn Without Plot, god help us all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 11:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11080494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdBookWorm/pseuds/ColdBookWorm
Summary: Dr. Flug's had a... /Problem/ all day, and he figures the best way to cure it is to just let his imagination go wild. His imagination, instead of going wild, goes straight to a closet with Black Hat in it. A lonely wank ensues.





	Probably Longer than 7 Minutes in Heaven

     

 

  It was the middle of the work day, and Flug was still feeling... Wrong. His work performance was down by a significant margin, and he’d tried everything. Cold shower, guilty masturbation session in the bathroom, thinking of his grandma. _Nothing was working_ , and Flug had a sneaking sensation that he probably knew what--or, rather, who-- was responsible.

  
        It always had to be Black Hat, didn’t it?

  
        He was by no means stupid, and noticed as soon as he woke up that morning that there was a boner somewhere it was _definitely_ not wanted. Perhaps it had something to do with his dream?

  
        Oh, what did it matter. He was tense, jittery, and it was almost 11AM and he _still_ had a hard-on.

  
        He just... Really wanted Black Hat. He was getting more hot and bothered the more he thought about his boss, but he really couldn’t stop thinking about him. Just... The way his elegant posture just seems so _effortless_ , and how powerful and ruthless he could be. His simmering temper, so quick to snap. It made things happen inside Flug’s mind that even _he_ didn’t want to know about.

  
        But oh, his body just wouldn’t listen, no matter how much he scolded himself. His erection still loomed, prevalent and distracting.

  
        He made up his mind, sneaking a guilty look around his workstation; he had the door locked, at least. Not that it ever stopped Black Hat...

  
        Flug shuddered.

  
        He closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and thought about how he would take him. He’d push Flug against the wall of some broom closet; hot, fast, and rough. He’d shove Flug’s underwear down and prepare him hastily, while the other hand worked around Flug’s cock.

  
        Flug was ashamed of himself, but nonetheless, there was sweat dripping from his face as he took himself in hand for what had to be the millionth time that day. He was still painfully sensitive from the last session. It just made his visions all the more vivid as he stroked himself slowly a few times, just trying to relieve the heat in his gut. He tilted his head back and tried to relax, imagining Black Hat.

  
        He’d enter Flug roughly, without heed for his comfort. Somehow that only made Flug _more_ aroused.

  
        Black Hat would snap his hips into Flug’s ass, eliciting a growl from the boss and a tooth-clenched moan from Flug. He’d shove his pointed fingers into Flug’s mouth to stop him from screaming; there could be no noise. There would be guests in the room right outside the closet. It would only add to the excitement.

  
        Flug shuddered again. _What was wrong with him?_

  
        There would be tears in his eyes but Black Hat would feel so _good_. Flug would be meeting every thrust with a muffled cry around Black Hat’s fingers, and Black Hat would have his chest pressed tightly to Flug’s back while he thrusted hard and fast into his ass.

  
        Flug’s back would be arched in pleasure, and he’d be gripping Black Hat’s wrist with his right hand and clenching his balled-up tshirt in his left.

  
        Black Hat’s face would be gleaming with sweat-- _oh_ , Flug can just _imagine_ \-- his face almost emotionless except for a small crease in his brow and a focused look in his eyes.

  
        He’d be biting Flug’s shoulders, leaving bloody marks that are sure to last a week. As he comes closer to the edge, he imagines Black Hat’s thrusts picking up speed in his urgency.

  
        The muffled cries in the closet and the wet slap of skin on skin would go unnoticed by the outside inhabitants, and before he could register, Flug would be coming. He’d spray his release onto the closet door and his belly and legs; his ass would be clenching around Black Hat’s cock, and his boss’ frenzied rutting would stutter to a halt as he’s tipped over the edge; Flug would be tight, wet, and shaking as Black Hat empties his release into him.

  
        He can’t help but groan quietly as he comes, his mind jerking back into the real world again and sweat dripping down his skin.

  
        His imagination was _too_ vivid sometimes, Flug thought.

  
        He caught his breath after a minute or so of heavy breathing. The afterglow of his daydream-induced orgasm faded, and his cock softened inside his fist. He took his hand away, cum dripping on the floor of his workstation. Flug groaned in exasperation.

  
        At least his boner went away, for now.


End file.
